


What's Coming

by fabrega



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Getting Together, M/M, Mission Fic, body parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Gabe flinches at the sound of the shot, but the bullet doesn't hit him. It hits McCree.





	What's Coming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/gifts).



> Blackwatch Week Day 5: Order / Chaos
> 
> Thanks to the most excellent [smarshtastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/), for everything. ♥

After the bright hallway, it takes a minute for Gabe's eyes to adjust to the dark room that he and McCree have been shoved into. It's a big room, with a hard concrete floor and crates stacked along two sides. It's also cold, cold enough that Gabe can see his breath; they must be in some kind of refrigerated storeroom. There are approximately ten big guys with guns in the room, not counting the three who'd escorted them in--not great odds for the two of them, especially with the way their hands are zip-tied behind them.

At the end of the room opposite Gabe and McCree, a woman sits in an ornate armchair, lounging across it like she owns the place. She's wearing a sleek down jacket with a fur-trimmed hood. A single light turns on, haloing her dramatically, and Gabe finds himself squinting again.

She speaks, but doesn't bother standing. "Commander Reyes. It's so good to finally meet you. Now, I know what you're thinking."

Gabe is doubtful of that. 

He recognizes her from the intel they'd gathered: Corinne Cutshaw, one of the cartel's top lieutenants. The cartel trades in body parts, both human and omnic, and their intel put her in charge of all of the cartel's business done in North and Central America. She's lounging like she owns the place because she pretty much does.

"What am I thinking?" Gabe asks.

"You're thinking that this shouldn't be happening. You're thinking that you had no trouble with the last three of my operations that you hit, why should this one be any different. You're wondering where you went wrong." Cutshaw gets up now and walks towards them. "You're always so careful, yet here you are, the situation completely out of your control. But are your people as careful as you are?"

"I don't have time for games and riddles," Gabe says, because he can tell that if he doesn't say something, McCree will, and despite Cutshaw's declaration, he'd like to stay in control of this situation as much he can. They both know what's coming.

Cutshaw reaches in the pocket of her coat and pulls out a chain with something small and metal dangling on it. It's not until she gets closer that Gabe recognizes it: the encrypted comm that they'd given Agent Desta when they'd sent him undercover.

"What have you done with my agent?"

"Oh, he's around," Cutshaw says, her voice flippant, "Or at least most of him is." She gestures to one of the guards at the edge of the room, and he pries the lid off one of the crates and shoves it at them. Gabe knows better than to look, but he looks anyway--inside is a bloody tangle of body parts. On one of them, he spots the elaborate floral tattoo that he knows Desta has on his upper arm.

Next to him, McCree makes a retching noise.

"If you _sell_ my agent's body parts, I swear to christ--" Gabe begins, but Cutshaw waves him off with a laugh.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please, Commander, and you're in no position to do anything about it. I discovered your agent, I fed you the false information that led to you planning this mission, and I have you here now, a finger-snap away from sharing your agent's fate."

"You wouldn't," McCree spits through chattering teeth.

"Oh, I absolutely would. Overwatch has been a nuisance to us for months now, confiscating our shipments, raiding our warehouses, sticking your noses where they don't belong. I relish the opportunity to take from the people who've been taking from me. What do you think, Commander--how would the Overwatch leadership react to receiving a box with your head in it?"

Gabe snorts. "If you think that would do anything except piss them off, you're sorely mistaken."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." She nods at the guards, who remove the crate with what's left of Agent Desta and unroll a large tarp on the ground. The guys who'd brought Gabe and McCree into the room shove them forward onto the tarp; Gabe doesn't have to ask what it's for. Gabe stumbles on the edge of the tarp, ends up on his knees and is hauled back to his feet by one of the guys behind them. McCree makes a noise of concern when Gabe stumbles, and the guy behind him shoves him again.

Cutshaw disappears for a moment behind a stack of crates and reappears with a wicked-looking handgun. Gabe doesn't have to ask what that's for either.

"It's been fun, Commander," she says. She stands back, off the tarp, and aims the gun at Gabe's chest. In his peripheral vision, he sees McCree tense up. One of them is about to make a huge mistake, and Gabe's not entirely certain that it's not him.

Several things happen in very quick succession. A vent in the ceiling slams open with a clang, and Genji drops in. Cutshaw looks up at the noise, sees Genji, and takes a step backwards, yelling for the guards. It's too late, though, as Genji unleashes his Dragonblade and takes out two guards, three, four--they fire at him with abandon, and the bullets ricochet back and hit another couple of them. Cutshaw stares after him, at the chaos he's causing, then focuses back on Gabe again. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. She takes a moment, levels the gun at Gabe's gut this time, and fires. At the same time, McCree lowers his shoulder and rushes at Cutshaw. 

Gabe flinches at the sound of the shot, but the bullet doesn't hit him. It hits McCree.

Gabe's heart leaps into his throat. The room seems to narrow down to that single point, McCree toppling to the floor, the agony on his face. Gabe flexes hard enough to snap the zip-ties on his wrists and scrambles for McCree. He barely notices as Cutshaw aims the gun again, as Genji throws a shuriken that hits her in the hand, as she screams and drops the gun. He drops to the ground too, pulls McCree into his lap and turns him over to find the wound. There's blood gushing out of a hole in McCree's chest armor. It can't have hit his heart--he's still alive--but it looks like it was a close thing.

Gabe swears and yells for a medic.

"I saved you, boss," McCree says weakly. His breathing sounds shallow and pained.

"You shouldn't have done that," Gabe says.

"What, and let you get shot? Not happening." McCree gives Gabe a shaky grin, followed by a wince.

Above them, Cutshaw stands with Genji's sword at her throat, a thin trickle of blood making its way down towards her collar. The mission had been to bring her in alive for questioning, and it looks like they've succeeded. Gabe half-hears Genji on the comms, telling them that an agent is down. He pulls McCree closer to him. He puts pressure on the wound and watches the fog of McCree's breath, pale in the cold air, and does the closest thing he's done to praying in years.

.

They make it back to the transport. The medic gets McCree stable, laid up in a biotic field, but not before he passes out from the pain. They've got agents combing through the operation here and Cutshaw tossed unceremoniously in the back of the transport, so Gabe tells the pilot to head back to base as quickly as possible.

Gabe sits nearby, not taking his eyes off of McCree.

After a while, Genji comes and sits next to him. "You were right, Commander. They were not expecting me."

Gabe smiles grimly. The ninja's inclusion on the mission had been a secret from everyone except the three of them. Something about the mission hadn't smelled right from the start, and Gabe would always rather have an ace up his sleeve he didn't need than lose the whole hand.

"You saved our asses back there," he tells Genji. "Thank you."

"I just did what you asked me to--and not quickly enough, it seems." He gestures towards McCree.

Gabe looks down at his hands; he's still covered in McCree's blood. He wants to reassure Genji that it's fine, that McCree will be fine, that this was the best possible outcome given the circumstances, but he can't quite find the words.

Genji doesn't seem to mind; he's silent, for a spell, and then he speaks up again. "You care for McCree." 

It's not a question.

Gabe glances sideways at him. Genji's face is hidden behind his faceplate, making his expression unreadable. "I care for all my agents. That's my job."

"No, your job is to send your agents out into danger. You must be willing to sacrifice any of us for the cause. _That_ is your job."

Gabe scowls, uncomfortable with this entire line of inquiry. His feelings aren't anybody else's business. "And you're saying I care for McCree? So, what, does that make me bad at my job?"

"It could be a liability." Genji shrugs. "But as long as you don't let your feelings interfere with your job, it's also none of my business."

Gabe bites down on about five different comebacks to this, including _you're damn right it's none of your business_ and dismissing him outright. Genji speaks first, saying quietly, "McCree is a good friend. I am glad someone cares about him."

Gabe doesn't know how to respond to that, so they sit in silence the rest of the way back to base, both of them watching the shallow rise and fall of McCree's chest.

.

McCree's carted off to the infirmary when they get back, Dr. Ziegler assuring Gabe that he's in very good hands. Gabe knows, knows that Angela's the best, but the reassurance helps too. He ends up getting sucked into debriefs and logistics, and by the time he comes up for air, the surgery McCree had needed is over. Gabe goes to check on him and finds him sleeping under a biotic lamp in one of the recovery rooms.

Gabe pulls a chair up to the side of the bed. It's late and the infirmary is quiet outside. The only reason Angela had still been there is because she'd known to expect him tonight, and she'd left him to the night shift nurses as soon as he'd turned up.

"Genji says I care about you," he tells McCree's sleeping form. He scrubs a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "He's right. I mean, he _can't_ be right, because he's also right that it's my job not to care about anybody, not like this, but he's right. Is it so bad that he's right?"

McCree doesn't answer, but then again, Gabe hadn't expected one. Besides, Gabe already knows the answer.

"I do care about you. A lot. More than I should, in ways that I shouldn't. The thought of losing you..." Gabe reaches out carefully, puts his hand over McCree's on the bed. It's more than he should do, the closest he can ever really get to acknowledging his feelings. He shouldn't even be _friends_ with his second-in-command, let alone have these kinds of feelings for him--let alone _care_ the way that he does. That he'd let it get to the point where anyone else noticed is a personal failing, one he'll do his best to correct. He'll let himself have this, just for a moment, and then he'll go and burn the feeling out of his chest, be responsible and professional and no one will ever be the wiser.

McCree's hand turns palm up, and his fingers close around Gabe's before he can manage to withdraw.

"You didn't lose me," McCree says, his voice quiet, sticking in his throat. "And I couldn't lose you either. That's why I took that bullet."

"It was a stupid thing to do," Gabe says. He doesn't pull his hand away.

"You'd have done the same for me." The certainty and sincerity in McCree's voice feels like a heavy responsibility, but at the same time, Gabe can't deny it.

"You should get some rest," he says instead. He stands to leave, but McCree doesn't let go of his hand.

"I care about you too, boss. _Gabe_. A lot. And I almost died, taking a bullet for you--"

"A bullet you absolutely did not have to take," Gabe says. He tries to sound stern, but he's smiling.

"--taking a bullet for you," McCree repeats. "I almost died without ever getting to kiss you, which would be a crying shame." 

Gabe can't help but laugh. He'd expected that they would dance around it for a while longer, continuing to use words like _care_ , plausibly deniable, Gabe giving McCree every chance to bail, fully expecting that he would. There was an order to how it would go, an off-ramp every step of the way. This, though, is anything but plausibly deniable. This is McCree looking him in the eye and saying _yes, I want you. I want you too._

"No need to laugh about it," McCree says, pulling his hand away, sounding and looking more than a little bit stung by Gabe's reaction. "I just thought--"

"No, no, McCree, I'm not laughing at you, I promise." Gabe sits back down. McCree has turned over in the bed, his back to Gabe, and Gabe tries to coax him out of his absolutely-understandable sulk. "I wasn't--I'm not laughing at you. You surprised me, that's all."

McCree does not turn back over, makes a dissatisfied noise and looks like he's settling in. How is Gabe so bad at this?

"Jesse," Gabe says, and _that_ gets McCree's attention. He rolls to face Gabe, his eyes big and hopeful, and Gabe continues, "You want this? You're sure? Really sure? You're okay with--with all the things that go along with it? All the strings that are attached?"

McCree grins. "C'mon, Gabe, you gonna deny a dying man his last wish?"

"You're not dying--" Gabe begins, but McCree surges up in the bed and cuts him off with a kiss, and any further complaints Gabe has, teasing or not, are immediately banished from his brain. McCree's fingers twist in the front of his shirt, and Gabe kisses him until McCree finally pulls away.

McCree winces, and Gabe's stomach drops. 

"That bad?" Gabe asks, not sure he succeeds at the light tone he's trying for. It's been a while since anyone's been interested in him, romantically or sexually, and he's sorely out of practice. Or maybe McCree's changed his mind? He's definitely allowed to change his mind. Gabe would never hold that against him. Or maybe--

"No, you're good. More than good, actually. It's just that whole," McCree gestures at his chest, "That whole 'dying' thing."

"You're not dying."

McCree grins at him. "Not _now_ I'm not. Now I've got something to live for."

Gabe laughs. "You're ridiculous."

"C'mon, you like me."

"I do." It feels like a big admission, and the look on McCree's face says that he knows it too. Gabe leans forward in the chair and kisses McCree again, repeating softly, "Yeah, I do."


End file.
